Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

Sellen had been known by many titles throughout her life. Some, she gladly laid claim to. Student, once upon a time, but also for the rest of her life, for there was never not something new to be learned somewhere. Scholar. Sorceress. And then, there were the titles that, while true, were not something she was quite so pleased with.
 
Exile. Fugitive. Apostate Witch. Thief. Prisoner.
 
Yes, not for the first time, Sorceress Sellen is reminded that she is not even truly here. This hideaway of hers, located beneath some ruins in central Limgrave, is not actually inhabited by her true body. She is but a projection, a mere facsimile of her true self, pushed out into the world so that she might still enact her will upon it.
 
That is not to say she is not grateful for the respite. Why, if she could not do this much, she’s quite sure she would have gone mad by now. Exiled from her home at the Academy of Raya Lucaria, hunted down by Witch Hunters and imprisoned deep underground for her so-called crimes of trying to push the limits of Glintstone Sorcery, Sellen was… hm. There she was, getting lost in her own thoughts again.
 
Better to consider other things, truly. She was happy to be alive. Happy to be free enough to do this much, at least. While her corporeal form might be trapped elsewhere, here in this basement she had carved something of a niche out for herself. What she would do next, she had no idea, but at the very least, she had some modicum of freedom here to carry out her research, to continue to study the mysteries of glintstone to its fullest extent.
 
Of course, it was a little difficult to do so, when the sounds of battle were filtering down through the stone from up above. Not for the first time, Sellen glances upwards, as the ceiling shakes overhead yet again. Someone is out there. The ruins she’s made her home away from home in, that she’s converted into an extra laboratory, are… mostly uninhabited.
 
Outside the door, there is of course the Mad Pumpkin Head. The ogre-like creatures made for decent enough guards and luring one into place had not been all that difficult for someone of Sellen’s skill and power. Likewise, her nature as a… figment meant that the creature did not try and attack her.
 
To it, her existence barely registered. All that it truly knew was that there was something worth guarding down here in her basement, her collected sorceries and research providing enough of a call of treasure to make it place itself outside her door and stand in defense of her and her work. Seeing as she had no real need to leave the area, given her lack of a true body and what not, it was the perfect arrangement.
 
Meanwhile, above ground the ruins were inhabited by Poison Flowers and nothing more. Not the most noisy or rambunctious ruin denizens at most times… unless, of course, they were disturbed. Sellen’s eyes narrow beneath her Glintstone Crown and her unseen nostrils flare as another massive banging sound results in small fragments of stone raining down on her from above.
 
The roots of the Giant Poison Flower that called these ruins its home tighten up overhead… and then go slack, decaying before her very eyes. Someone had killed the flower, and likely all of the smaller Poison Flowers as well. How… enterprising.
 
A small tendril of worry begins forming in Sorceress Sellen’s thoughts. Just who was it, who was traipsing around her ruins? Godrick’s men, perhaps? She’d chosen this part of Limgrave because not only was it a quieter area of the Lands Between, but it was also far enough away from Stormveil Castle to keep most of Godrick the Grafted’s soldiers from getting too interested. But perhaps she’d been wrong about that.
 
BANG!
 
Even as a facsimile, even as a mere flicker of her real self, Sellen still damn near leaps out of her skin, when she hears the sound of the Mad Pumpkin Head outside of her laboratory slamming his hammer into the ground. Not content with merely the surface, it would seem that whoever dealt with the Poison Flowers overhead had now decided to tangle with the Mad Pumpkin Head as well.
 
Stepping forward, Sellen listens carefully to the fighting going on right outside of her door. There are no cries, no calls, no words spoken. Merely the roaring of the Mad Pumpkin Head, as he combats his adversary. One individual then. Not an entire squad of men, as it would be if this were Godrick’s soldiers.
 
Funnily enough, that makes Sellen feel worse, not better. For one individual to clear out the Poison Flowers up above and then make their way down here to fight the Mad Pumpkin Head… could it be? Have the Witch Hunters caught wind of her? Have they come for her, even here?!
 
SLAM!
 
The unmistakable sound of a massive ogre-sized body hitting the stone floor outside of her laboratory causes Sellen to stiffen. The Mad Pumpkin Head had been defeated, and she expects the enterprising individual who did the defeating will open the door any moment now. Taking several steps back, she stands in front of her desk and begins to call upon Glintstone Sorcery as the door is grasped and slowly pulled up. If it is a Witch Hunter, she will not be taken easily, even in this state.
 
The door slides fully open and Sellen finally gets a good solid look at her intruder. Almost instantly, she feels a little foolish. Oh, he looks quite dangerous, there’s no doubt about that. His armor is covered in blood that is not his own, and almost certainly came from the Mad Pumpkin Head he just killed. So is his sword, which he rests on one shoulder.
 
But… he is not dangerous to her, she immediately decides. There are no signs that he is a Witch Hunter, nor that he knows who or what she is. Which means, even if he does decide to attack her with that sword of his, he will not be capable of doing any damage to her.
 
Besides, his true nature is like an open book to one such as her. She recognizes him immediately for what he really is.
 
“Tarnished, are we? A wonder you should turn up here.”
 
She pauses for a moment, and though it’s hidden beneath her crown, thins out her lips and lets a note of irritation fill her voice.
 
“I am Sellen, a sorcerer, quite plainly. Why are you here?”
 
For a moment, the Tarnished does something rather odd. He smiles at her almost fondly, as if he’s already familiar with her. Impossible, she’s never seen him in her life, but the sad glint in his eyes unsettles her quite strongly. Then, he blinks and looks down at himself as if just realizing something. Holding up a finger, the heavily Armored Tarnished steps back through the doorway and out of sight, just off to the side.
 
Blinking owlishly, Sellen watches the empty doorway for a moment expectantly. What is he doing? She’s half-tempted to go check, but… couldn’t it be trap? She’s safe here, in her inner sanctum. If she moves to follow, she might be putting herself in more danger than she’s ready to handle. Instead, she stays put, and is rewarded for her troubles naught but a few moments later when the Tarnished steps back into view, much changed.
 
Once again, Sellen is reduced to blinking, and all the happier for the coverage provided by her heavy Glintstone Crown for it. The Tarnished has completely doffed his armor in favor of a set of Scholar Robes and a Scholar Cap that makes her heart pang with a longing for her lost home. They fit him… well enough, but it’s clear he isn’t exactly made for them. Or maybe that’s simply her prior experience with him in full armor talking.
 
Yes, on second glance… he seems almost as at home in the robes of a Scholar as he did in the armor of a Veteran soldier. His sword has in turn been replaced in his hands by a modest Glintstone Staff, and as he steps forward, he has an almost eager look in his eyes as he puts his hands, both the one holding the staff and the empty one, together in front of him so he can bow at the waist before her.
 
The realization of why he’s actually here has hit Sellen by this point. He’s not here on behalf of the Witch Hunters, nor on behalf of the Demigod who claims Limgrave as his fiefdom. He’s here for himself. He’s here to learn.
 
It takes Sellen a moment to get over her surprise, both at that discovery and his startlingly swift transformation. A warrior seeking to become a scholar might be rather odd, but it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. Furthermore, Sellen would be a hypocrite to deny someone knowledge when they came to her with hat in hand. Especially after all she’d experienced, all the discrimination and prejudice she’d encountered in her own pursuit of knowledge.
 
Clearing her throat, the Sorceress smiles behind her heavy stone crown.
 
“Ah, you have a yen for glintstone sorceries, do you? Well, your aptitude does appear… passable enough.”
 
He knew enough to get the robes and the staff before coming to her. He obviously wasn’t FROM the Academy, though even if he was, she wouldn’t turn him away. Where he’d gotten his scholar’s robes and cap, and the staff, mattered little to Sellen. What mattered was that he was here now, and eager to learn.
 
And yet, even if it was he who was initiating all of this, even if he had been the one to track her down to this place out of a clear desire to learn… Sellen hesitates all the same. Her morals will not allow a potential student to be drawn in to the sins of their teacher. Nor will it allow her to keep her grave secret from this potential learner.
 
“However, one must choose one’s masters wisely. I was exiled from the Academy of Raya Lucaria as a reviled, apostate witch. Do you still wish to learn from me?”
 
The smile drops from the Tarnished’s face, replaced with an expression of utmost seriousness. For a moment, she thinks he might have suddenly changed his tune with that latest bit of knowledge, and that she’ll have to fight him off after all. But no, if anything he suddenly looks even more determined than before, as he gives her a single, sharp, altogether solid nod in answer to her question.
 
Hm, he’s quite the strong silent type, isn’t he? She’s met warriors like him before, bluntstones more at home with a weapon in their hands then words on their lips. Yes, Sellen can already tell just by this simple interaction with the Tarnished that they’re not going to have long debates on the true nature of Glintstone Sorceries and their place within the cosmos.
 
But… that is alright. She does not need him to speak, for her to teach him. Still, she can’t help the amusement that infects her voice as she gazes upon her new student.
 
“You are a piece of work, aren’t you? Heh, very well. You are now my protégé in all things related to Glintstone Sorcery. But know this, I refuse to coddle. Or cast kind words for the sake of kind words. Never. Anticipate grievances, my young apprentice.”
 
He merely nods again, and before she can bring up the topic of payment, he pulls out… a Lord’s Rune. The full covering nature of Sellen’s crown keeps the Sorceress’ gobsmacked expression from reaching the Tarnished before her, but she no doubt radiates shock all the same, judging by the ever so slightly smug look in his eyes.
 
Sellen had not believed there was a single Lord’s Rune in all of Limgrave. Runes, as it was, were the lifeblood of the Lands Between. They represented the Grace that dwelt within every inhabitant of these lands, true vestiges of power. Tarnished, like the one before her, were those who were bereft of Grace and exiled from the Lands Between.
 
Having been exiled from her own home for her pursuit of knowledge, Sellen felt a sort of kinship with these Tarnished who were returning from far away lands and seeking a return to Grace, seeking Runes in order to strengthen themselves and regain what was once lost. Of course, everyone knew that a Tarnished needed a Two Fingers Maiden in order to properly use Runes.
 
Was that why this Tarnished was holding out to her a Lord’s Rune? Could he not use it? But he’d handled the Poison Flowers and Mad Pumpkin Head so easily. And even further, he HAD to know it’s true value, right? It was… so far beyond what her teachings were actually worth, it wasn’t even funny. At least ten times the total cost of what she would have demanded for teaching him what she knew.
 
Lord’s Rune were said to be the runes of one who was destined to become a Lord, only for that to become a distant duty when the Elden Ring was shattered. What he was holding out to her now in offering was… well, there was only one being in all of Limgrave who might be said to have one of these… if he wasn’t already carrying something even greater still, in the form of a Great Rune. Yes, Godrick the Grafted might have a Lord’s Rune, or know the whereabouts of one. But this Tarnished? Who changed from full armor to scholar’s robes at the drop of a hat, who wanted to learn from her? Just who was he?
 
She’s been standing silently for far too long, Sellen abruptly realizes. And yet, the Tarnished is not put-out by this behavior one bit. He’s smiling at her, and still holding the Lord’s Rune out for her to take. This is not a man who second guesses himself, Sellen finally decides. Not ever.
 
Reaching out hesitantly, Sellen takes the Lord’s Rune from his hand and carefully sets it down on the table behind her, acting as if it is not the most valuable thing she has ever received. Unfortunately, as she is now… it’s worthless to her. But the Tarnished doesn’t know that, can’t know that… and perhaps one day, it will not be. Until then, she will keep it close.
 
“… Yes, that will do as payment for now, apprentice. In the meantime, let us begin.”
 
Collecting her thoughts for a moment, Sellen clears her throat as she looks at the Tarnished Warrior intent on turning himself into a scholar in a new light.
 
“Young apprentice. First things first. You are a tadpole when it comes to magic. Infantile, even. Without the legs to walk, let alone swim. So, to become a sorcerer, you must first face your own ignorance.”
 
The Tarnished nods seriously, though she notes he does not take notes. Well, either he will prove to have an excellent memory, or she will chastise him later when he asks her to repeat things, she’s already told him. Not that he’s said a word yet… hm, perhaps she will finally hear him speak then. Rather than bringing up the need for him to procure parchment and writing implements, Sellen simply continues on with her first lesson.
 
“Our powers draw upon the powers embedded in glintstone, but what is the nature of such power? I shall tell you. Glintstone is the amber of the cosmos. Golden amber contains the remnants of ancient life and houses its vitality, while glintstone contains residual life and thus the vitality of the stars. It should never be forgotten, apprentice, that Glintstone Sorcery is the study of the stars and the life therein.”
 
As she pauses in her lecture, she notes that the Tarnished, her new apprentice, is hanging off every word. A strange warmth fills her heart. It is… good to be talking again, even if her company is silent in turn. It is good to be teaching again, even if her student turns out to be no more than a bluntstone warrior. It is good to be spreading her knowledge again, even if she gets the strangest impression, like he’s humoring her, like he already knows all she knows.
 
But that would be insanity, and Sorceress Sellen is NOT mad. And so, she continues her lecture, teaching this indecipherable Tarnished what she knows about sorcery and magic, trying not to spend too much time being utterly baffled by the mysteries and questions that surround his very existence.

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